


In Fair Verona Where We Lay Our Scene

by sad_bi_cowboy



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Hannibal Flash Fic #002, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Honeymoon, Image Prompt, Lace Panties, Lingerie, M/M, Only mentioned though, Oral Sex, Panty Kink, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Rimming, Sex Toys, THEY'RE IN LOVE!!!, They love each other, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, sex prompted by charcuterie boards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:26:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28808055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sad_bi_cowboy/pseuds/sad_bi_cowboy
Summary: Will and Hannibal are newlyweds honeymooning in Italy. It comes with certain expected activities.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 69
Collections: Hannibal Flash Fic #002





	In Fair Verona Where We Lay Our Scene

Will awakes to the sound of rain pattering gently against the wide windows of their bedroom and the sounds of Hannibal puttering around the kitchen with soft jazz floating through the house to the upstairs. Will burrows back into his cocoon he has made of the luxurious cotton bed clothes, not wanting to move quite so suddenly after waking up. Maybe Hannibal’s hedonism is rubbing off on him.

Well, that, and he is  _ sore _ , the ache in his thighs and hips accompanied by a particularly sharp one in his perpetually damaged shoulder. And his throat doesn’t feel all that fantastic either. He glances up to the black silk ropes still loosely looped around the headboard, hanging over his head like sated, happy snakes, and Hannibal’s low, rumbling voice from the night before crosses his mind. Worth it. 

Eventually, he has to gather himself and actually wake up. His stomach is growling angrily at him, and whatever Hannibal is doing down in the kitchen smells delicious, as always. He digs into the dresser trying to find a pair of underwear before realizing that he has neglected to do his laundry and settling on a pair of just loose sleep pants. 

Their rented villa is a modest size, but no less luxurious, tucked into one of the many lush green hills of the northern  _ Veneto _ region in Italy. They are maybe twenty five minutes outside of Verona and about an hour and a half from Venice. Far enough from complete civilization for Will (and for them to go relatively unnoticed), and close enough for Hannibal to frolic about and enjoy the finer things that he does. All in all, not a bad place for a summer vacation. Or for a honeymoon. 

He finds Hannibal where he expects him to be: at the kitchen island, completely engrossed in perfectly slicing the strawberries in front of him. The smell of freshly baked rolls wafts from the counter by the oven, and a cup of coffee sits over to his right. 

Will stands in the doorway for a minute, just watching his husband work (and isn’t that still a strange thing to say,  _ husband _ ). Hannibal is almost unrecognizable. His dyed black hair has grown out to around shoulder length, which he often ties in a knot at the back of his head, and he keeps a light scruff of a beard on his cheeks. Will can almost feel the hearts in his eyes. 

He has a stupid, sappy moment when he realizes that the boards Hannibal is arranging a variety of fruits, meats, and small pastries on is one of the set of two charcuterie boards that he got him as part of his wedding present. One half was a plain, but beautifully varnished wood and the other was beautifully painted marbling that covered the wood and looked like the rolling waves of the sea. A perfect reminder.

As far as they were concerned, their plunge off the cliff had been their wedding, but after settling in the quaint, seaside village in France and waiting for themselves to be declared dead, they had both wanted to be legally married under their assumed names. After nearly a year of waiting, they had finally been married the month before, in Paris - because Hannibal Lecter, the Chesapeake Ripper, the Monster of Florence, and until recently, the FBI’s most wanted, was nothing if not a romantic at heart. 

Will steps forward into the kitchen and wraps his arms around Hannibal’s waist, nuzzling into his neck as he rests his head on his shoulder. 

“Mornin’,” he drawls, letting his accent thicken. Hannibal’s breath catches and his normally steady hand falters where he cuts the strawberries. Will grins wolfishly. He knows just how to push Hannibal’s buttons. Americans tend to make a fuss about accents, especially nondescript, vaguely European ones like Hannibal has (and that is, Will is convinced, how he managed to fly under the radar for so long), but Will knows damn well that when it concerns him and his melodic, almost sing-song drawl, that fuss certainly goes both ways. It helps that he plays it up when he has too; he has gotten to the point of doing his best impression of a  _ Gone With the Wind _ character before. 

“Good morning,  _ Mylimasis _ ,” he says, regaining his composure enough to start working on the strawberries again. He glances at his watch. “I take it you slept well?” 

Will eyeballs the fresh, deeply purple hickies that line Hannibal’s collarbone visible under his bathrobe, layering over the lighter yellows and greens of older, more healed ones. 

“Well, my shoulder aches, my hips hurt, and my throat is sore. So…” he trails off, moving his hands to squeeze against Hannibal’s hips. “I slept  _ very  _ well.”

If Hannibal was a cat, he would be the cat that got the cream, looking supremely smug and purring non-stop. 

“I’m very glad you got some rest, Will. You always did push yourself too hard.” 

“Hmmmm,” Will hums, snaking a hand down to squeeze at the bulge tenting the front of the bathrobe. “And who’s fault is that, can I ask?” 

Hannibal doesn’t answer, just presses his hips back into Will’s erection and arches his back to rest his head on Will’s shoulder. Will plucks the knife out of his hand and sets it on the counter before spinning Hannibal around and yanking the bathrobe open. He nearly loses it right there.

Hannibal wears inky black panties under his robe, the lace perfectly hugging at his hips and thighs. His cock strains at the front of them, bulging against the shear front and the head peeking obscenely from the top. The black perfectly complements the red scratches Will can see along his hips, extensions of the ones on his back from Will’s nails the night before. He looks absolutely  _ delectable _ . 

Will surges forward and kisses him savagely as he pushes them both to the floor, using the robe as protection from the cool tile. A bottle of lubricant slips out of a pocket and starts rolling away from them. Will notices and breaks away from Hannibal for a moment to reach out and grab it before it rolls out of reach, gasping sharply as he feels Hannibal sink his teeth into his neck. 

“You planned this,” he gasps, thrusting his hips against Hannibal’s. Hannibal groans loudly at the friction and breaks his hold on Will’s neck. 

“I don’t know what you mean, Will,” he pants. “It seems that we have forgotten to do our laundry. This was my only option, I’m afraid.” 

Will chooses not to say anything, opting to thrust his tongue into Hannibal’s mouth again and reach down between them to cup him through the soaked lace. Hannibal moans into his mouth as Will trails his fingers up to play with the head of his cock poking out of the top of the panties, slipping the foreskin back and forth over the sensitive skin. Will breaks their kiss again with a final, deep suck to Hannibal’s top lip that will surely bruise later and slinks down his body with a vicious glint in his eyes. He pauses briefly to suck and twist at each nipple before making his way over Hannibal’s navel, biting hickies in a dark path down to the waistband of the panties. 

Will almost smiles at Hannibal’s restrained shriek as he covers his cock over the panties with his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head and sucking while his fingers massage the base and further back to feel around his hole. He moves the panties aside just enough to access Hannibal’s hole completely while also keeping his cock covered. He leans in and licks a stripe down from the head of Hannibal’s cock all the way to his hole before he buries his face between his cheeks and thrusts his tongue all the way in. 

“Will!” Hannibal’s thighs clamp around his head like a vice, forcing Will to come up for air and wrench them apart before diving back in. This time, he blindly finds the lube and adds in two fingers, stretching Hannibal open before crooking them to find his prostate. Hannibal’s keen echoes around the kitchen, and Will is thankful that they have no neighbors. He pushes in another finger and fans them out to really make Hannibal squirm. He tongues at his hole again and pushes it in next to his fingers, the sound wet and obscene in the echoing room. 

Will could do this for hours just to listen to Hannibal’s moans and cries - and he had, on their wedding night - but right at this moment he is impatient, and his cock has leaked a huge wet patch in the front of his pants that is getting uncomfortable. He moves up to suck at Hannibal’s cock over the lace again, still keeping three fingers of one hand buried inside of him while the other reaches down to free his cock from its confines. He moans at even the light friction from his hand, which in turn sends vibrations through Hannibal’s groin and makes him moan out his name again.

He moves up Hannibal’s body when his cock is free, grinding them together and moaning into Hannibal’s throat at the rub of the soaked lace of the panties against his cock. 

“God I would keep you in those all day,” he breathes into Hannibal’s ear. “I’d never leave the house without you wearing them around your cock and wearing a and a plug in your ass to keep you open and wet for me when I get home.” 

“I’d do it for you,  _ Mylimasis _ ,” Hannibal pants, his nails leaving raised, red lines down Will’s back before his hands cup his ass cheeks and force him to grind against him harder. “I would wear only these from now until the end of time if you so desired.” 

Will leaves a vicious bite just under the line of Hannibal’s jaw bone.

“You’d do anything I asked of you, huh, Baby? Keep yourself ready for me, so I could have you whenever I wanted? Tie you up so I can ride you whenever I need a break from the  _ long, hard _ days at the garage?” He punctuates the words by reaching down and guiding his cock into Hannibal in one, long, slow slide. 

There is such  _ pleasure _ behind Hannibal’s deep, throaty moan that Will has to still himself inside him for several seconds to keep from coming immediately and cutting this encounter way too short. He starts with slow, rolling thrusts, making Hannibal feel every inch of him with no relief. By the time he has worked up to the rough, pounding thrusts that they both favor, Hannibal is babbling incoherently, in languages that Will can hardly discern between the wet sounds of skin on skin and his own moans and grunts. Will moves up to a kneeling position, hoisting Hannibal’s hips over his thighs and changing the angle of his cock inside him. Hannibal nearly screams with the pleasure of it as Will nails his prostate directly, squeezing warm and wet around him. Will throws his head back and moans.

“Fuck, you feel so  _ good _ ,” he croons, running his nails over Hannibal’s thighs, not enough to raise lines but enough for him to feel and to make him shiver around him again. “I understand why you’ll have me for hours on end.  _ God _ the way you make me scream for you, Hannibal. I think they heard me in Verona. It’s a wonder no one has found us, based on how loudly I scream your name.” He grips Hannibal’s hips so hard he knows they’ll bruise. “Maybe I’ll keep you here for hours, like you kept me in bed last night.” 

It’s a lie, and they both know it: Will is so close to coming that his balls ache, and he can feel Hannibal starting to flutter around him the way he does when he’s close. Another problem is that the floor is cold and hard, and they aren’t as young as they used to be - staying on the floor for hours would be a decision they would quickly regret. 

Hannibal comes first with a deep, guttural moan that sounds like Will has fucked it right out of him. His come soaks the front of the panties so much that the shear panel in the front is almost see-through. He clamps down hard on Will, causing him to give a few more jerky, uncoordinated thrusts before he comes inside him with a loud moan of Hannibal’s name and slumps forward over him. They don’t move for a long while, letting themselves come down and their breathing slow. They have to move eventually, though. Their sweaty chests stick together uncomfortably, and Will feels his own come leaking back out of Hannibal as he pulls his soft cock gently out of him. Hannibal grunts and both the sensation of being empty and the sensation of come leaking out of him. Will moves to get up, but Hannibal pulls him back down against his chest, carding his fingers through his curls. Will nearly  _ giggles _ . 

“Hannibal, Baby, we can’t fall asleep on the tile floor in the middle of our kitchen.”

“Oh, you’re sleepy, Will. You must be getting old. Let me remedy that.” 

Before Will processes what is happening, Hannibal has stripped himself of the ruined panties, dropped them on Will’s face, and high-tailed it up the stairs back to their bedroom. With a groan - this time due to his aching joints and sore muscles - Will follows him, his laughs echoing through the house as he takes the stairs two at a time. 

On the marbled charcuterie boards, the forgotten strawberries make the shape of a heart. 

**Author's Note:**

> So for the second week in a row you get a fic from me!! And this time it's porn!! Woohoo!!! 
> 
> They are so disgustingly in love I can't handle it.


End file.
